


Assassin's Creed: Sacred Stones

by Regret_I_Dont



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Multi, mature language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regret_I_Dont/pseuds/Regret_I_Dont
Summary: A crossover of my two favorite franchises, Fire Emblem and Assassin's Creed. I'll try to update every Sunday.At the beginning of the War of Sacred Stones, Prince Ephraim decided to hire a famed mercenary, who claimed heritage from the Hero-King Marth. But there was more to this mercenary than it met than the eyes, and there was more to the war than the prince could ever imagine.
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Original Female Character - Relationship, Eirika/Lyon (Fire Emblem), Ephraim (Fire Emblem)/Original Female Character, Tana/L'Arachel (Fire Emblem), others
Kudos: 2





	1. The Wandering Legend

_ You’ll lose that arm if you extend it any further.

The young man stopped almost immediately as if time itself had frozen. He was yet to be within a sword’s distance from the young woman, whom he had assumed was napping, and his arm was only beginning to reach out; nonetheless, he wasn’t willing to take the risk.

_ I was only about to help you up. I have an offer you may find interesting.

The woman stirred, then sluggishly sat up. Little blades of green grass dotted her blue hair, but she appeared to pay them no mind. The man noticed a tear-shaped mark on her forehead as she turned to look at him; it was a birthmark, he had heard, proof of her heritage as a descendant of the Hero King Marth. He had also heard that those born with this mark bore powers gifted by Naga, a foreign god from continents far away. How much of it was true, he didn’t know, but the young woman before him was indeed well-known for her battle prowess. She could use any weapon, and fill any role on the battlefield. While she wasn’t known for her likability, the man was promised that her service was worth every coin. Such service was exactly what he needed.

_ I’m expensive. – She said, as her eyes examined him. He was dressed for combat; his dark blue armor appeared expensive with a few shallow dents and scratches. His lance was especially eye-catching, its silver tip and golden handguard gleaming brilliantly. A very rich knight, at least, or a noble.

_ I’m aware. Devera, the famous mercenary from a legendary bloodline, who serves no liege other than gold. I’m also aware that you currently have no allegiance, and I’m confident you’ll find me a generous employer with an assignment worthy of someone your caliber. I’m Ephraim, Prince of Renais, and I’d like to hire you to defend my kingdom.

Devera scoffed, unexpected to Ephraim, who had secretly hoped that his talk of grandeur might sway her.

_ You expect a single mercenary like me to guard Renais against the combined might of Grado and her allies? Your Highness, you are as idealistic as the rumors say about you.

She then lied back down and closed her eyes, appearing to be completely comfortable on grass.

_ In case that wasn’t clear, I’m not interested. But there are plenty of mercenaries who will die for honor; ask one of those idiots.

Ephraim hurried to her side and sat down:  
_ No, that’s not what I meant. As you know, Grado’s attack has taken us by surprise. Right now, I’m on my way to attack Fort Renvall to regain our advantage.

_ Risky. – Devera whistled.

_ Indeed, but I believe it would be worth it. – He paused briefly. – To be honest, we…aren’t currently in a good shape.

_ I figured.

_ Not just Renais, no. My company and I aren’t in good shape. Our numbers are small, and our supplies are low. I hope that by taking Fort Renvall, I can at least secure some supplies for my troops and buy some time, even if meager, for my father and sister in the capital city. I realize what a daunting task this is. Which is why when I heard that you were nearby…

_ You figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask?

_ Well, yes. – Ephraim nodded. – I assure you, the Renais royal family can reward you generously for your service…if you’d give us some time. It would be a great morale boost for our troops, knowing that a mercenary like you is on our side.

Devera yawned, but at least she opened her eyes and looked back at Ephraim:  
_ And my payment? How much are you willing to spend on me?

_ As of now, 5000 gold. - “That’s all the gold we have left”, Ephraim thought to himself gingerly. - After we take Fort Renvall, you will receive doubled that amount. If you stick around afterward and help me, no, help us defend Renais, you can receive a portion of compensation that Grado will have to pay us.

Ephraim briefly doubted if what he proposed would be enough for her; he admittedly hadn’t done much market research on a mercenary’s average pay. It was more than what he assumed most mercenaries would receive to enter a single battle. “I’m expensive”, she said. The rumors said the same thing, but they never specified how expensive.

But before Ephraim could get his answer, he tensed up. There were movements behind them, armored men, a small group. He grabbed his lance and rose quickly, just as Devera leisurely retrieved her sword and shield from the ground next to her. Soon enough, they were surrounded. Ephraim counted twenty-odd men, armed to the teeth in heavy plate armors, each holding uniform shields and broadswords. Not bandits, clearly, or even mercenaries. This was a professional army, well organized and probably well trained. Their armors bore the coat of arms of Grado, which made sense, seeing how they were in Grado. Were the others detected, he fretted. Had they been defeated?

_ Worry not, princey, they may not be here for you. – Devera whispered, as she stood up, back to back with Ephraim. – They probably don’t know about your friends either.

_ How do you know that?

_ I’m pretty high priority too, you know, what with being a famous mercenary and all. Besides, those armors are a bit ill-fitting, don’t you think?

Ephraim ran his eyes across the men; she was right. Some of the barbutes appeared too big, others seemed to struggle with boots that were too small. A country with a powerful military like Grado could afford armors that actually fit their soldiers.

_ Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? – The line of armors broke briefly to reveal a man who appeared to be their leader. He turned to Devera. – Give up your weapons and we’ll consider keeping you alive, for now.

Devera scoffed:  
_ Does that ever work?

_ More often than you think. – She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure that he smirked. – Most people have enough common sense to know that they can’t stand against us. I hope you’re the same.

Ephraim pressed his back against hers and continued their discussion, keeping his voice low:  
_ What do you reckon; bounty hunters after your head, or mercenaries after mine?

_ I have a hunch. – Devera smirked. She then turned to the leader. – What about this, I let you take Prince Ephraim of Renais here and you let me walk away?

She could feel Ephraim whipping his head around and stared at her in shock, while the armored men rattled among themselves. She could see the leader shifting uncomfortably.

_ It looks like they’re not after you, princey. – She whispered at Ephraim, while shifting her shield into place and drawing her sword. – Sorry about this. You got caught up in my mess.

Ephraim nodded; there was no reason why real Grado troops wouldn’t have taken her deal. She was a well-known mercenary, but he was the crown prince of Grado’s enemy at war.

_ I will lend you my strength, free of charge of course. – Ephraim smiled. – But in return, may I have your word that you would at least join me at Fort Renvall?

_ Ah well, Naga is on your side today it seems. – She sighed. – I propose we strike first and take as many we can by surprise. Then we regroup like this.

_ You read my mind.

Ephraim gripped his lance and dashed forward, aiming straight at an armored knight’s heart with no reservation. As his enemy stumbled back, bleeding from his newly formed hole, he swiftly stabbed the next man in the T-shaped gap of his barbute, then swung the end of his lance to deliver a crushing blow to the temple of another who rushed to stop him, ending it with another powerful thrust at his abdomen as he fell to the ground.

_ I didn’t say he should just charge first. – Devera mumbled.

Then she, too, charged. Aiming at one of the enemies in Ephraim’s general direction, she bashed his face with her shield, and as he fell back, slashed her sword through his kneecaps. Dodging a broadsword coming at her from her right, she drove her shield at his swordhand, knocking the weapon away, then aimed her sword at the gap in his armor at his gut, slashing her sword sideways. Her next attack on her third target was blocked by a shield, but she forced him down with a well-placed blow to the knee with her shield. She then drove her sword in his face, quickly finishing him before withdrawing her weapon, preparing for the next charge.

_ No common sense among the two of you then. – The leader drew his weapon.

_ Not a single drop. – Ephraim smiled as he moved to Devera, touching her back with his own.

_ I had hoped to capture you alive, but very well. Men, charge!

The next few minutes were a blur; Ephraim and Devera both had been through fights like this before. Fighting against a crowd had a pattern, rules, strategies that one’s body simply adapted to from experience. The men were well-trained, but not enough. Ephraim’s strength could overwhelm them, and Devera’s skill could outmatch them. Rule number one, “Never stop moving”, which they both obeyed. Back to back, they cut their way through the crowd relentlessly, taking care to never stray from each other’s side, while opening a path outside of the circle of enemies. Because rule number two was “Never get surrounded”. Eventually, they found themselves on the edge of the enemy encirclement.

_ Only half of them left. – Ephraim said, panting. He caught an enemy coming at Devera’s back with the end of his lance. – Still hanging in there?

_ Who do you think you’re talking to? – Said Devera, as she deflected an axe coming at the prince’s shoulder with her shield, and slashed at the attacker’s kneecaps.

He smiled at her response, feeling reassured. Which he probably shouldn’t be feeling, considering the fact that he was still outnumbered roughly 5 to 1, fighting alongside someone he only met mere minutes ago. Yet she never got into his way, never missed a single blade coming at him. Had he not known better, he’d have thought she grew up training with him.

A few shield bashes and stabbing later, only they were left, panting, catching their breath. The leader had already gone down by then, taken out by either of them, though neither was sure who actually did the deed. Not that it mattered. Devera searched his body for a command; she found none.

_ No luck figuring out who sent them then. – Ephraim commented, disappointment in his voice.

_ Unfortunately. – Devera sighed. – Nonetheless, I suppose you now expect my presence at Fort Renvall?

_ As you said, it was your mess that I got caught up in.

_ A favor needs paying, regardless of how reckless. – She stood up and turned to face the prince. – You’ll have my sword and shield, for now, at no cost. We’ll talk more about our future arrangement once Renvall falls.

The prince breathed a sigh of relief; having seen her in battle, she was a formidable ally. And if nothing else, he prevented Grado from obtaining a strong hand in their forces. He would hate to stand on the other side of her blade.

_ Please, follow me to our camp. My allies would be most contented to see you.

The mercenary nodded, but seemed to notice something amiss. She scanned her eyes across the ground as if looking for something.

_ It appears that I have lost my pendant.

_ It must have fallen off during combat. – Ephraim began looking around as well. – What does it look like?

She waved her hand at him and knelt down:  
_ I can look for it on my own; it’s fairly hard to miss, but difficult to describe. Oh, don’t wait for me. Please make your way to the edge of the forest first. I can find my way there.

Ephraim hesitated, but he complied. In his mind, it was only right to help her to look; after all, two pairs of eyes would be better than one. But she was most insistent. Perhaps she feared another favor might incur another job unpaid, he amused himself with the thought.

_ Very well, I shall wait for you at the edge of the forest.

_ I shouldn’t be long. – Devera assured him and resumed her search.

As soon as Ephraim left, Devera stood up and moved to the leader. She knelt beside him, removed his barbute and used her shield to crack open his bevor. Tucked beneath his chainmail was a silver necklace. She pulled the chain out, revealing a red cross framed in gold.

_ You’re alive, aren’t you? – Said Devera, her voice low and dripping in contempt.

She stomped his throat with her foot, forcing him to cough up blood. His eyes flickered open with difficulty, but soon he stared back at her.

_ Afraid to show your true nature to your future employer, eh?

_ What is your goal here? – She pressed down his throat, uncaring of his remark. – Why did your kind make Grado fight?

He coughed up more blood, not because she made him to, but because he laughed:  
_ Everything bad in this world… You blame us for them?

_ What is your goal here? – She repeated, this time more slowly.

Still with a smile of contempt on his face, he glanced at the sword safely sheathed by her side:_ You don’t deserve the Falchion. It was a weapon to bring peace and order to this world, yet you joined the side of chaos. You and your foolish parents...

_ So you’re here to steal from an orphan? Classic. – She snorted.

_ Strike me down and another shall rise in my place. – He glared. – Your little order will not bring us down.

He then turned his eyes upwards, as if making peace with his own end:  
_ May the Father of Understanding…

But before he could finish, Devera swiftly drew her sword and drove it deep down his throat. She kept it there until she was certain no sound would ever come out of it again, not then, not ever. She couldn’t bear to hear what he wanted his last words to be, knowing full well what they were. Over the years, she had heard the same phrase multiple times from those she struck down, each time more annoying than the last. Although the first time was the most memorable. Twelve years ago, in a small home deep within the capital city of Frelia. Uttered by four men standing above her parents’ corpses. They couldn’t find Falchion that night, just as they couldn’t find her. So she figured she might do them a favor and brought both herself and her heirloom to them, although so far, none of them seemed to appreciate her efforts.

From afar, the prince could see Devera approaching, her golden shield attached to one arm, a white hooded robe covering her back, the fabled Falchion on her side, and a sack of personal belongings casually hanging over her shoulders. A rush of confidence washed over him at the sight of her, heading towards his aid. The glimmering of her golden shield and the regal, ethereal glow, of the Falchion would be a sight for sore eyes for a losing army on the charge, or a fortress on the verge of falling, he would imagine. And yet, beneath that unfaltering certitude she portrayed, in that particular moment, she appeared faltering.

_ Is something the matter? Have you found your pendant?

_ Yes. – She nodded. – Shall we join your companions then?

She bore a confident smirk, but Ephraim couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Though it bothered him, he didn’t let that show. They walked side by side, with Ephraim taking the lead when necessary, as they headed to the prince’s camp. Small talk, or at least attempts at it, had been made, mainly by Ephraim.

_ So how’s life as a mercenary?

_ Can’t complain.

_ I…take it that it can be dangerous?

She shrugged:  
_ I live, as you can see.

“She’s not the most…agreeable”, he recalled hearing from the man at the tavern. “Certainly doesn’t have a lot of friends”, another man added. “You’ll get exactly what you pay for, a mercenary. Just…don’t expect her to be sociable.”

_ Do you not intend to travel with any band? – Ephraim asked. He thought it sad, leading a life of solitary wandering with no attachments, no companionship. Even then, he sorely missed his father and his sister back at the capital city, and he was certain he couldn’t have gone this far without his knights.

_ No. – She said.

_ I admit, the life of a mercenary appeals to me. – He said. – Going from battlefield to battlefield, testing my skills against new opponents. But doing it alone seems so lonely to me.

_ No company is always better than bad company, prince.

Eirika always told him how badly oblivious he was to common social cues, but at least he could recognize this was Devera’s way of telling him to shut up. But how, he thought. How she could have gone for five years, wandering from battlefield to battlefield all by herself, without making a single connection, was beyond him. Was she truly that unpleasant? Having only met her briefly, he couldn’t say. But so far, he enjoyed her company. The memory of their recent battle came back to mind; it felt right to fight by her side. She seemed to know where he would move next, where his back would be open, and where he would need an extra sword. He was sure he saved her hide several times during the scuffle, just as he was sure that she saved his. Was her personality so disagreeable that no commander had thought it worthy to retain such a skillful soldier?

_ Your Highness!  
Ephraim perked up at the voices of his knights. It seemed they had arrived at his camp while he was still trying to break the ice. His three commanding knights, Kyle, Forde and Orson, rushed to see him. Among them, Orson was the most experienced, the most dedicated; his reputation among the Renais military was impeccable, just as his dedication to his wife. Kyle and Forde were much younger, closer to Ephraim’s age. What they lacked in experience, they made up for in enthusiasm and potential. The prince couldn’t have asked for better retainers by his side.

_ We have a problem, Your Highness. – Orson reported, concern heavy in his voice.

_ What happened?

The old knight beckoned the prince to follow him, and Devera quietly trailed behind. He led the company to twenty corpses, stripped down to their tunics, having been laid side by side. On their bodies were several lethal wounds, each one clean and accurate.

_ The patrols found them nearby. It seems that someone already looted their armors and weapons, but we found a letter of assignment from Grado. They’re a part of reinforcement sent to Fort Renvall, but we have no idea who killed them, and why.

As soon as he finished, Devera stepped forward:  
_ I can explain that. They were killed, probably ambushed, by bounty hunters after my head. Maybe they figured they could pretend to be envoy from Grado, asking for my assistance to let my guard down. Although they changed their plan after seeing the prince.

_ My apologies, but I don’t believe we are acquainted. – Orson raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious.

Ephraim smiled amicably and stepped to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder:  
_ Allow me to introduce, this is Devera, the mercenary I left to recruit. I’m sure I do not need to further elaborate on her skills; tales of her exploits around the continent are well told and heard.

_ Many of them exaggerated, I’m sure. – She shrugged, apparently in an attempt to get his hand off.

It was futile; compared to her slim and compact build, Ephraim’s hand felt like a giant boulder.

_ I don’t believe so; you certainly live up to your reputation. We encountered the bounty hunters earlier, and without her I wouldn’t live.

_ Without me, they wouldn’t have attacked you. Which is why I’m here. Just making it even.

_ Right. – He smiled, finally removing his hand. – Devera agreed to help us take Fort Renvall with no pay to return my earlier favor. I’ve seen her fight, first-hand. Her skills would be a great addition to our forces. After that, we will discuss her further employment and compensation.

Though Orson remained skeptical, which was perhaps understandable, considering his tenure, Ephraim’s younger commanding knights were more welcoming. The young knight with green hair stepped towards her with a serious smile, extending his hand:

_ A pleasure to meet you, Miss Devera. I’m Kyle, a knight under service of Prince Ephraim. By the way, I’m a great admirer of your work in Carcino 2 years ago, against those pirates. I hope to learn from you while we fight together.

_ Same to you. – She shook his hand, although she didn’t appear happy about it.

The remaining young knight, one with blonde hair and an easy smile, stood next to Kyle, his hands behind his head:

_ Forde, also a knight of Prince Ephraim. Nice to meet you. Gotta say, you’re not quite how I imagined.

_ How did you imagine me?

Forde shrugged nonchalantly:

_ Taller, I supposed. And older? Certainly a lot scarier.

_ Sorry to disappoint then.

_ Oh don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you look nicer than I thought. Looking forward to fight with you.

At least, she managed a strained smile. Ephraim pondered if it was because his knights struck a nerve, or she just simply didn’t fancy…people. If that was a thing. Nonetheless, the prince noticed a particularly silent presence, which prompted him to speak:

_ And this is Orson. – He gestured at the old knight, who was sternly observing the new mercenary. – He is one of Renais’ most dependable and respectable knights. Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without him.

Serious reservation was clear on the old knight’s face. He regarded her with suspicions, perhaps out of a sheer distrust for mercenaries in general, so she didn’t take it personally. She was used to being treated with such sentiment. A soldier who fought for gold was bound to have shaky allegiance, and she had heard of those who turned on their employers for higher pay before. She made it a personal rule to not switch her commanders in the middle of a contract, not out of honor, but practicality. No one would hire a flippant mercenary changing lord like changing their tunics, no matter how skilled.

Regardless of what Orson thought of her, he eventually extended a hand towards her just like Kyle did, his glares remaining doubtful:  
_ It’s my great pleasure to fight with you, Miss Devera. I hope to see your abilities up close.

_ As do I. – She shook his hands.

_ Well then, onto business.

Said Ephraim as he turned around and walked back to the main campsite, where he held his war meetings on the roads. His knights and mercenary followed him swiftly. They gathered in a medium-sized tent, not big enough for comfort, but not so small that they couldn’t all fit. In the middle of the tent stood a makeshift surface built from wooden boxes, with a large map laying on top. A map of Grado, Devera recognized, with little wooden pieces representing generals and military forces. There were two slightly larger pieces, the king and crown prince of Grado, perhaps. She glanced towards the edge of the map, where Fort Renvall was. Not a very large force, it seemed. There were very few pieces around the fort’s symbol. Through the grapevines, she knew the fort was being held by Zonta, a fellow mercenary, and his band. If Grado simply outsourced the upkeeping of the fort, they either didn’t care much for it, or they desperately needed generals elsewhere. Either way, perhaps there was hope for them.

_ I know Zonta. – Devera spoke first as they gathered around the map. – Worked with him before, once. He may have the advantage of number over us, but he’s not much in strength.

Ephraim found himself smiling at the word “us”. Their alliance was short-lived yet, but he enjoyed the idea.

_ I agree. We’ve crossed swords with several mercenary bands like his on the way here. – The prince nodded. – I do not wish to underestimate my enemies, but they yield rather easily.

_ Still, the location of Fort Renvall is tricky. – Said Orson, sliding his hand over the faded blue shape surrounding the fort. – In the middle of the lake, the fort is unreachable unless by air or the main entrance, which is heavily guarded with canons. And as you can see, we have no Pegasus here.

_ Which is why I propose we storm the main entrance. – Ephraim moved a blue piece to the slim strip of “land” across the lake, connecting the fort and mainland. – If we strike fast enough, they won’t be able react with their canons.

_ Except… - Forde sighed heavily. – There’s that stupid gate.

Kyle nodded, appearing to be deep in thought:

_ I imagine we can fashion a ram, but the time it takes for us to make one may be enough for Grado to send more reinforcement. And carrying it to the fort may slow us down, giving them to prepare their canons.  
The party fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts, except for Forde, perhaps, who appeared as nonchalant as ever. For Devera’s part, she had an idea. The only obstacle was whether or not they trusted her enough. Although, she figured, it wasn’t as if they had many alternatives.

_ Gentlemen, lend me your ears. I may have the cure for your ailment.


	2. The Conquest of Fort Renvall

Devera shivered as she broke the water surface, her hands pushing down on the grassy land as she pulled herself up from the lake. “Damn water”, she thought to herself, “cold as shit”. She rushed into a nearby bush and waited. And waited. Zonta had neglected to post his guards around the lake, which was a bad move for him, but excellent for her. It was still cold, but she had to move fast. She crept carefully towards the fort, and craned her neck as hard as she could to see movement above. The hard stone wall had a solid surface all the way up its top, decorated in places with small holes for archers, and square windows lined the upper edge. She heard distant movements of mercenaries walking around, metal boots echoing in stone walls, but there were no signs of active defense going on. Zonta was a careless man; she had gathered that much from their brief time working together. 

Wiping her hands on nearby leaves, Devera braced herself for a long climb. She carefully picked out protruding stones, and braced her hands on them, lifting herself from the ground. Her drenched clothes and chainmail were a bit heavy, but she could manage. It was the occasional breeze that she feared. Step by step, she scaled the fortress, all while paying attention to the archers’ peaking holes, lest someone accidentally walked by. Zonta didn’t have many archers to spare, it seemed, especially not on the side of the fortress, where he wasn’t expecting visitors. Careless, she thought. As she neared the windows on the top, Devera saw a shadow of a mercenary on guard; upon closer inspection, he looked bored, yawning. She couldn’t blame him; sentry duty sucked hard. If things went well, it’d be boring, but if it weren’t boring, then shit was about to go down. Either way, it sucked. Having to kill a colleague sucked too, but it was her job. “Don’t take this personally”, she thought, bracing herself close the wall while keeping her hands just below the windowsill. She listened carefully. His yawning was the only sound nearby; there appeared to be no other guard. Then, she whistled.

It was merely a small whistle, but it was a break of normalcy for the guard. Too small to cause alarm, but too strange to ignore. She could hear his armor clanking to his uncertain movements. “Come on now, I know you’re curious”. She could almost see his trail of thoughts; should he call someone to check it out with him, just in case? But what if it turned out to be nothing and they’d think him a scaredy-cat? He’d never live that down. Besides, he could have just misheard it. But it was there, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he should just poke his head out and check, for the peace of his mind. Yeah, just a little bit. He’d draw his weapon, just in case, not that he was scared or anything. He was a proper man, after all! Why would he be scared of checking out a little sound?

But as soon as he crept near the window, hadn’t even poked his head out yet, Devera pushed herself upwards and drove her hand towards his neck. He wasn’t wearing any helmet or bevor, just a few of many fatal mistakes he committed that day. Beneath her wrist, a small blade slid out alongside her palm, and with a little force, she managed to bury the blade deep inside the throat. With the sudden opening in his throat, his blood freed itself from its fleshy cage, pouring out furiously. He gargled, struggling to breathe, struggling to yell out an alarm. Once she was sure enough damage had been done, she drew her hand back hard, pulling the guard’s upper body outside the window, while her hidden blade slid into its sheath soundlessly. She grasped his armor and gave his body the little assistance it needed to completely fall out the window while shifting herself slightly to the side, giving him the space to drop unceremoniously to the ground. His armor clanked loudly, just not enough for his mates to hear. “Easy peasy”, Devera thought, as she invited herself into Fort Renvall in broad daylight.

From the forest’s edge facing the fort, Ephraim and his knights knelt silently, taking advantage of the trees’ shadows. Their horses grazed the forest’s grass nearby in peace. They were far too distant to observe Devera’s movements, forcing them to wait and “Have faith”, like the way she put it, when she described her plans to them not long ago.

_ I advise caution, Your Highness. – Orson was the first to object, as she had suspected. – How can we trust that she won’t turn tails once she gets inside the fort and has a nice chat with her fellow…sellswords?

The last word, Orson had almost spat out in contempt, but Devera opted to neglect his tone:

_ I don’t switch my allegiance in the midst of an agreement. I believe my reputation can prove that.

_ There’s a first for everything, isn’t it? – Said Orson.

_ Going by that logic, perhaps His Highness should expect a betrayal from you soon? 

_ How dare you? – He growled. – I would never! 

_ Miss Devera, please still your tongue. – Kyle interjected in defense of his older comrade. – General Orson has served our kingdom with utmost dedication and loyalty for several decades!

_ A first for everything, isn’t that right General? – She sneered; his discomfort only served to encourage her aggravation. But she decided to cease and turn to Ephraim instead. – You don’t have much room to be picky here, Your Highness. None of your men, and I’m sure they’re very capable and loyal men, are suited for clandestine activities. A deaf bat can detect them before they do anything.

Ephraim was beginning to understand why her disagreeability was as well-known as her competence; her blade was sharp but her tongue sharper. In less than the time she needed to kill 2 armored bounty hunters, she had already managed to rile up 2 of his knights. 

_ Peace, friends. Now is no time to fight among ourselves. – Ephraim pinched the bridge of his nose. – But I must say, Devera, I feel unease with this plan of yours as well.

_ Oh not you too, princey.

Orson gritted his teeth and glared at her:

_ You will address His Highness properly.

_ It’s fine, Orson, I don’t mind. – Ephraim then turned to Devera. – It’s not that I don’t trust you. This plan is too dangerous for you. I cannot possibly forgive myself if something happens to you in there.

She scoffed:

_ Staying alive is my forte, as you can see. All I need to do is to sneak in there, open the gate, and let you and your merry little band storm in. It’s simple!

_ If you don’t betray us in there. – Orson grumbled.

Ephraim did not speak immediately; while he had little concern of the mercenary’s integrity, sending her alone into enemy territory felt like a failure on his part, as a general. She was one of his soldiers now, and her life was part of his responsibilities.

_ I’ll come with you. – Said Ephraim.

_ With all due respect my prince, you cannot. – Orson objected. – You’re too important to us.

_ Sir Orson is right, Prince Ephraim. – Kyle said. – Even if we fully trust Miss Devera, for you to go on a cover mission as risky as this…

_ It’s not risky. – Grumbled Devera. 

_ …is a gamble we cannot afford to take. Besides, we need your command.

_ And if she decides to turn tail, it would be far too easy for her. – Said Orson. 

“This is going nowhere”, she thought, watching the prince debate his new idea with his entourage. Any moment now, more reinforcement could arrive. The time for debate was long gone. 

Devera took off her shield and unstrapped her Falchion, handing them both to the prince.

_ Uhm, Devera? – Ephraim raised an eyebrow at her. 

_ You want to make sure I won’t turn tails? – She glared at Orson. – There’s your insurance. My two precious heirlooms, yours to keep until you win Fort Renvall.

_ Nice shield. – Forde said, admiring the golden gleam and glimmering shine of the precious stones that decorated the surface. 

_ Thanks; I found it in my childhood home’s basement.

_ Must have been a really nice basement. 

Orson glanced at the sword and shield in Ephraim’s arms, his eyes still doubtful. He had heard of them being invaluable artifacts dating back to the age when the Divine Dragons still walked the lands. Were they his heirlooms, he would never want to part with them, even if he had a chance to collect them back. Although she didn’t appear to value them as much they were worth. Regardless, Prince Ephraim holding them was a good thing. At the very least, they had a decent bargaining chip. 

_ I’m going to the fort now, because we’ve wasted enough time. – Devera pulled up the hood of her white robe. – Get ready to move. Once the gates open, storm the entrance as fast as you can.

_ Wait, Devera. – Ephraim dropped the sword and shield onto Forde, causing the knight to tumble a bit in surprise. He rushed to grab Devera’s arm. – There must be another way. 

She snapped her arm away and sighed:

_ Would you like to wait for more reinforcement to show up? Or would you rather let a mercenary that you hired to do her job?

_ I cannot send one of my own army to near certain death merely because I cannot think of a strategy.

_ I promise you, princey. – It was her turn to put her hand on his shoulder. – I will not die in there.

_ But you’re not even armed now.

Devera raised the edges of her robes, showing daggers and several types of darts hidden beneath the white cloth. Forde let out a whistle, admiring the hidden arsenal. Yet, when Ephraim was still unsettled, she smirked, radiating with confidence:

_ Have faith, Prince Ephraim. 

It was easy enough for her to sneak around inside the fort, eliminating the guards from the shadow with her hidden blade and daggers. The common mercenaries were no matched for her, and they were far too confident in the location of their fort to stay alert. She snaked her way downwards, pausing occasionally to watch for patrol, and eventually reached a small door that lead to the courtyard. Here was the risky part. She could tell there were only two guards outside the gate, based on their banter and the sounds of movement, but there was always the chance someone could see her from within the castle. “Let’s hope princey and his stooges get here fast enough”, she thought as she braced herself.

She didn’t get to that point. She felt the swing of a sword coming from behind, before narrowly avoiding it. Reaching for a dagger beneath her robe, she cursed herself for missing that one guard. 

_ Did you think killing our brothers earlier was enough to stop us?

_ Ah, of course. – She breathed a sigh of relief. – I thought I sucked enough to miss a common merc, but it’s one of you. Whew. 

_ Where is Falchion?

Devera faked a shocked look on her face, and frantically looked around.

_ Oh no, where did I lose it this time?

Unlike the mercenaries, he had the intelligence to wear head and neck protection, so she couldn’t see his face. But she could tell his patience was running thin.

_ I’m sure you’ll be more honest, chained to the wall in the dungeons.

_ Ooh, kinky. 

Without her sword and shield, Devera felt a little naked, but she would have to make do. Watching the movement of his sword, she ducked towards the enemy and searched for an opening. She noticed that when he swung his sword, the armor revealed his elbow, leaving it exposed. She made a feint with her dagger, as if she meant to attack his throat, forcing him to block with his sword. At that moment, she stabbed his elbow with the hidden blade. He grunted in pain, but regained his composure quickly and pounded the stone wall, yelling out:

_ Intruder!

Thanks to her previous efforts, not many guards were around to heed his call. But three guards burst through the small door and drew their weapons at the sight of their comrade’s bleeding elbow. “Ah, so there were three”.

_ You okay? – Asked one of the three guards.

_ Yeah, just get her. – The bleeding one grabbed his elbow, trying desperately to stop the flowing blood. – But keep her alive. We need to know how she got here.

The situation had become slightly more complicated, but she wasn’t concerned. The guards were forced to engage her in a single file due to the narrow hallway, and their clunky armor, which admittedly increased their defense, would impede their movement. “Never get intimidated in a battle, no matter what. That’s how they get you.” Gerik’s words once upon a time rang in her ears. “Know when you are outmatched, but keep a cool head. Plan your next approach. That’s how you’ll stay alive.” She briefly wondered if his code of honor had gotten him killed yet. 

They would try to stab her abdomen, or her limbs. They would guess that she was wearing chainmail underneath her clothes and robe, seeing how she couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to barge in her with nothing but simple garments. And they would be right. But that would make their movements even more predictable, which she definitely didn’t mind. As the first mercenary charged, she took a step aside and drove the hidden blade into his throat. While he grabbed his new gaping wound, the second mercenary attacked, which she could easily deflect with her dagger before slashing his neck with the same weapon. Finally, the third mercenary attempted to move forward while avoiding his two crumbing friends, which the hallway made very difficult. Before he could do anything, she jumped at him, landing on his chest which caused him lose balance and fall into her first enemy. Quickly finishing off the mercenary with her dagger, she turned to the last surviving foe and slammed his head into the stone wall, before taking off his helmet and tucked her hand inside his armor. She could feel the very same silver chain, with the same red cross in a golden frame.

_ Just get it over with. – He grunted, clearly feeling the impact of having his head rattled within a steel helmet.

_ Sorry, I needed to make sure it was one of you. 

_ Of course, your stupid creed. 

Just as he wished, she gave him a quick end with a dagger to the eye. She stood in silence, listening for any clanking of armor boots coming to the assistance. She heard none. 

_ She’s taking her time. – Kyle commented, perhaps growing impatient.

_ Indeed. – Orson nodded in agreement. – This was a risky idea from the beginning. We have no idea what she’s doing in there.

Ephraim grew restless as well, though he didn’t show it. He was fairly certain that Devera was still alive, else Zonta wouldn’t have wasted any minute letting him and his army know. The fort remained quiet from the distance, and he found himself getting irritated by its tranquility. 

_ Your Highness, look. – Said Kyle, pointing at the fort, passing the prince a telescope.

At the front of the fort, the gates moved, slightly. Ephraim could see a white hood poking out briefly, before disappearing. 

_ That’s our signal.

Turning to the rest of his knights, Ephraim nodded. With urgency, the men put on their helms and climbed on their horses, just as the prince rode to the edge of the forest.

_ Men, the time has come to strike back at Grado. – The prince glance over all of his men, armed and ready. – They outnumber us, and they have the upper hand. Let us fight on nonetheless, for the sake of all that we love in Renais. 

Then he turned forward, gripping his lance, and faced the fort with his small army behind him. Considering the odds of the battle ahead, Ephraim was strangely calm. His most trusted and competent knights were all by his side, and within the fort, his new-found ally awaited. Even if he was outnumbered, the young prince found that he had no reason to worry. He took a deep intake of breath, and with his most commanding voice, he roared:

_ CHARGE!

The tranquility of Fort Renvall was soon replaced by a turmoil of noises, of steel clanking against steel, of metal cutting into flesh, of people groaning in pain and drawing their last breaths. Ephraim tried to look for Devera in every little break of combat he could afford, but had little success. But he could feel the flow of battle slowing down, in his army’s favor. He turned at his commanding knights and shouted: 

_ Into the castle!

Leaving his small army behind in the courtyard to hold back the bulk of Zonta’ mercenary band, the prince fought his way into the looming stone building before him, alongside Kyle, Forde and Orson. With brute force, they pushed through. He surmised that the leader would be holed up in the throne room.

_ Zonta will be there. – Said Ephraim. – Once we defeat him, this battle will be ours. 

_ Grado castles are always the same. – Orson contemplated. – We should reach the throne room once we pass the entry hall.

_ Which would be swarming with mercenaries, no doubt. – Kyle sighed. 

_ You worry too much, Kyle. – Forde smiled at his friend reassuringly. – They will be of no trouble to us. 

_ Your optimism is admirable, friend. – Kyle frowned. – But caution is wise, and you need to keep that in mind. 

_ Perhaps we will find Devera there. – Ephraim mumbled. 

_ We should take caution, Your Highness. – Orson grimaced. – The mercs may have colluded with each other, and set a trap in the throne room.

It was not a sentiment that Ephraim shared, but he said nothing more on the matter, as there was another concern in his mind:

_ Orson, your wounds still haven’t healed from the last battle, have they? 

_ Yes… - Orson admitted quietly.

_ Don’t push yourself. If we’re defeated, you must return to Frelia. Understood?

_ Understood. – The old general nodded.

Satisfied, the prince turned to the rest of his companions, and they pushed forward. While there were enemies, Ephraim couldn’t detect any kind of trap as he fought through. Soon, they reached the throne room. Leading his group, the prince stepped forward and pushed open the heavy gates. 

A sound of clapping echoed off the stone walls as Ephraim and his knights came to face the throne. Zonta’s guards filled both sides of the room, leaving only a single path to the throne, where the leading mercenary was sitting. Zonta’s clapping was slow; his face displayed a clear smug. 

_ All praise Prince Ephraim of Renais. How brave of you come all the way here, with just a handful of knights by your side. But also quite foolish. Do you truly think you can take us with those numbers?

In a split second, his smug was replaced with pure rage and bloodthirst. 

_ Imbecile! You’ll learn the error of your ways!

Fierce and unflinching, Zonta rose from the throne and grabbed his broadsword. With a brief glance across all his guards, he raised his sword, taking a deep breath before he roared:

_ ATTA-

Ephraim swung his lance and shield around in a fury of violence, knocking back foes and bashing at heads in desperation. Kyle, Forde and Orson formed a tight defensive circle behind his back, taking care not to step into the path of his attacks, but standing ready to block any fatal blow towards their prince. Even in combat, Ephraim was still processing the events unfolding before his eyes mere moments ago. Zonta was ordering his men to attack him and his company, but he never got to finish. Amid his sentence, a shadow fell from above, grasped his chin and slit his throat. Then, as he tumbled back, holding his wound, the same shadow snatched his broadsword and rammed it into the nearest guard, before turning around to throw a dagger to another guard’s eye. He only knew one person who fought like that. But before he could confirm his theory, the leaderless mercenaries sprung into a raging mob, hungry for revenge. He could hardly blame them; had his comrade been killed before his eyes, he would seek the same thing. But even if he was able to sympathize with their grief, the circumstances forced his hands; he had to defend himself so that he could return to his dear sister and father, regardless of the means. And so he pushed forward, the cold tip of his lance dripping in the warm blood of those who stood before him.

As he kicked a mercenary to the ground, freeing his lance, Ephraim saw a small gap in the crowd of enemies, and there she stood in the distance, one hand holding Zonta’s broadsword, the other a round shield she must have picked up from the foes she just felled. He was briefly astonished at how much she was dwarfed by her enemies, yet that small back still appeared so large, projecting so much confidence. She was tussling with two large mercenaries, who were proving to be much sturdier than their boss and friends. Then he realized his view of her back was obscured, and before he knew it his lance was flying out of his hand, soaring through the air until it pierced a plate armor with ease, forcing the wearer of said armor to crumple. She appeared to be surprised by his lance for a brief second, but so were her enemies. 

He wasn’t quite sure what she did next, however, because he had to quickly remedy his weaponless status. While his knights covered for him, he managed to find an iron lance in the hand of a fallen foe; not as good as his personal lance Reginlief, but it would do. Knocking back two guys with his shield, Ephraim drove his new lance into one’s head and swung the lance, mercenary still attached, sideways, forcing another to fall. Forde quickly finished him off for the prince, while Ephraim freed his lance and aimed for the next target. Struggling with an axe user, Ephraim saw a swordsman coming from behind in the corner of his eyes. He managed to block the axe user with his shield and turned around to deal with the swordsman first, only to see him groan in pain, an arrow protruding from his throat, and fell knee first to the ground, revealing Devera standing from afar, a bow in hand. “Seriously, give her any weapon and she’ll fight with it, no complaint”, the prince found himself smiling as the words of the man at the tavern came back to him. Worth every coin indeed.

\---

_ Aha.

Devera gleefully exclaimed as she fished out a bag full of coins from one of the chests lying around in Fort Renvall’s treasury. 

_ Should be at least 5000 gold in here. – Grinning from ear to ear, she checked the bag’s content eagerly.

_ Is gold all that you mercenaries care about? – Orson sighed.

_ Oh no, dear Esteemed General. We put our lives in danger fighting other people’s fights out of the goodness of our hearts! It’s not like our livelihood depends on the pay or anything. 

“She would get along well with Innes”, Ephraim amused himself as he watched her sarcasm annoyed his companions. But there were more important matters at hand; the prince and a few of his knights were rifling through the chests to replenish their severely malnourished supplies. Devera seemed to have snatched the biggest bag of coins, but there was plenty gold left, scattered among the chests. Not to mention vulneraries, elixirs and spare weapons. Their risky campaign paid off, after all.

_ We’ve secured the entire castle. – Announced Kyle, as he entered the treasury. – You were brilliant, Prince Ephraim! What a plan! What a battle!

The prince smiled humbly:

_ It wouldn’t have gone so well without Devera. Your gamble saved us much time and spared us much risk.

_ All in a day’s work, my prince. – She faked a curtsy, but the smug on her face clearly showed how much she enjoyed his praise. 

_ Yes of course. – Kyle turned to the mercenary, his tone much kinder than before. – You truly delivered what you promised. I see now that the rumors undersold your abilities.

_ Oh stop, you’re making me blush. – She was not blushing. – Well, what next, princey?

While his knights carried their well-earned loot outside, leaving only him, Kyle, Orson and Devera, Ephraim spoke with conviction:

_ I estimate at least half of the enemy troops are in the field. We took the castle, but we don’t have the manpower to hold it in a siege. There’s no point in lingering here. Let’s continue on to Grado Keep.

Then he turned to Devera:

_ Have you decided? Will you continue to lend us your strengths?

She wanted to, to be honest. Of course, the gold she was holding heavily swayed her decision in Ephraim’s favor. Grado was a rich country, so Grado Keep’s chests had to be heavy in valuables too. But at the same time, she didn’t want to create the misconception that she cared for their cause; she had a reputation as a greedy, heartless mercenary to maintain, damn it. She shrugged nonchalantly:

_ As long as I get a cut from the loots, I’m in.

Heartily, the prince clamped his hand on her shoulder again, much to her annoyance:

_ You made the right decision, my friend. I guarantee it.

Naga’s scales, no. The prince had jumped to a terrible conclusion, that they were “friends”; she shuddered at the thought. But before she could correct his misconception, Forde burst into the room, panic on his face:

_ Prince Ephraim!


	3. The Mercenary's Purpose

The air was still. Peaceful, even. It was a beautiful night, with a full bright moon and glimmering stars and whatnot. Devera was sure most people would enjoy such a sight. But not Ephraim’s company. No matter how hard she tried to ignore, their weariness and exhaustion hung heavily in the air. Had she not known any better, she wouldn’t have been able to guess that just this afternoon, they claimed a whole fortress against a larger force. But such mood was understandable, seeing how they quickly found themselves surrounded by General Valter of Grado in Fort Renvall. Somehow, under Ephraim’s command, they were able to escape, but not without some casualty and a hefty loss in morale. As soon as they were able to find a safe place to camp, the prince’s small company quietly ate and slept off their fatigue. Or at least attempting to. She could hear several knights turning in their tents and groaning from their injuries as she crept quietly through the campsite. Tired sentries posed no challenge to her, and she easily escaped the campsite undetected. Once she was sure no one from Ephraim’s company could see or hear her, Devera pulled out the pendant lying beneath her shirt. She wasn’t lying to Ephraim entirely; she did have a pendant, only that she would never lose her pendant in a fight so easily. The triangle-shaped pendant was secured to a dull silver chain, and kept very close to her no matter the circumstance. Had she lost the thing, and the very thought scared her, a certain man would be very upset.

_ Hey greenie.

Her blood froze for a second, but her subconscious recognized the voice. That annoyingly posh accent was unmistakable, and the choice of word. There was no doubt that standing behind her was a man clad in dark blue robes, with a shit eating grin barely visible beneath a hood that hid half of his face.

_ Naga damn you to oblivion, Arno. – Devera gritted her teeth. – I could have stabbed you.

_ No, you could have tried. – The man named Arno chuckled. – But seeing how utterly easy it was for me to sneak up on you…

_ What are you doing here then, big shot? – Oh how much she hated his snide smirk, which was undoubtedly on his face, even if she couldn’t see it. – You surely have more important things to do than stalking a girl in the forest in the middle of the night.

Arno sidestepped to face Devera, and sure enough, the smug aura of his smile was clearly mocking her:

_ We found out that Valter was heading towards Fort Renvall, so the Mentor sent me to make sure that you, and more importantly Prince Ephraim, survive.

She scoffed:

_ You were of great assistance then! We couldn’t have possibly escaped the claws of Valter without your total absence from the ensuing battle.

_ Haven’t we just established your inability to detect me?

_ Oh lay off me, where were you really? We could have used a well-placed hidden blade in that battle, you know?

_ I was there, observing. – Arno shrugged. – You didn’t look like you needed help, so I stayed my hand. And here you are, alive, aren’t you? Or would you have preferred me holding your hands and offering words of encouragement?

It took every bit of her inner strength to keep her words in; well yes, she survived, but not without far too many brushes with death in that ambush. Arno stepping in would have really made things easier. Yet her pride forbade her from admitting straight to his insufferably smug face that she needed his help; he’d never let her live it down.

_ Anyhow, the Mentor is expecting us. – Arno glanced at his pocket watch. 

_ I know that. – She sighed and held out her pendant. – I would have gone already if you didn’t interrupt me. 

_ Is that so? You weren’t lost in thoughts about your dashing prince of Renais? 

Groaning, she held her pendant tightly and closed her eyes, focusing her mind on a single word: “Masyaf”. She waited for that brief second of nausea, which she could never got used to, and once it washed away, she opened her eyes to an earthy yellow castle, nestling neatly on a platform high above a bustling green plain. Beneath her feet lay a large insignia carved into the stone foundation, the same shape as her pendant. Seconds later, Arno appeared next to her. Before them stood a tall iron gate, with a guard standing on each side. Both guards observed the symbol on the ground carefully; it remained silent, thus there was no cause for the concern. One of them turned around and waved at the gate, which began to slowly retract itself upwards, while the other smiled at the pair:

_ Welcome home, brother and sister.

Masyaf was bustling with robed figures striding its halls, all looking busy, all having things to do, places to be. Business as usual, Devera thought. Although, the castle did appear more crowded than usual, since all the top brass had gathered to discuss the most important matter: the war between Grado and Renais. They expected her to report on the condition of Ephraim, Crown Prince and the center of defense for the attacked kingdom. Princess Eirika’s status was another person’s job, and she was genuinely curious as well. The last she heard, the princess was stuck in the capital city with Fado, the king of Renais. Some familiar faces passed by, nodding at her, and she nodded back politely. A few stopped and stared, but not at her, rather the “dashing” man walking beside her. As an elite from the Etrurian Brotherhood, Arno Dorian was a popular name, a figure that many newbies aspired to. Plenty were those who wanted to be with him too. Devera could see his appeal, but his smugness personally offended her. One of the Masters claimed that she only hated him because her personality was just as crap as his; that personally offended her too. She had always taken pride in having the crappiest personality among any given group of people. How dare he suggested there was someone as unlikeable as she was?

_ Devera. – A big hand tapped her shoulder.

_ Connor! – Exclaimed Arno. – How was Tellius?

_ The usual. Aveline’s got a good handle on things, and William’s helping her out. I must thank your Council in Etruria for lending him to us. 

_ Ah it’s cool. It’s not like we’re having much to do back home anyway. He’s probably glad he got out of that stuffy place.

The man named Connor chuckled politely; it was common knowledge in Masyaf that Arno didn’t get along well with the leadership of his brotherhood. 

_ How’s Prince Ephraim faring, Devera? – Connor turned his attention back to her. – The intel report spoke very favorably of his combat prowess.

_ He’s good, I’ll admit. – Devera nodded thoughtfully. – A bit reckless. A lot like you, Connor. 

He smiled in amusement:

_ I hope that’s a good thing.

Devera didn’t reply, only smirked. For someone as higher up the authority ladder in Masyaf as he was, Connor treated everyone as his equals, even the greenest newbies. It should have been Master Connor, not just Connor. She probably shouldn’t have indicated that he was reckless either (even though that was the truth). 

_ Arno you son of a whore!

An excited voice rang out before them, and a stocky man practically skipped towards them with outstretched arms.

_ Jacob you son of a hog. – Arno grinned in return, though he quickly stepped aside to avoid the bear hug.

Missing his initial target, Jacob tried his luck with the tallest man in the group, though he too stopped his efforts midway. Jacob smiled meekly:

_ Connor, you’re back! We’ve all missed you, you know.

_ I know, thank you. – Connor smiled, gently pulling Jacob’s arms down. – I’ve missed you all as well.

_ Speaking of miss… - Jacob looked down, smirking. – Sorry I missed you kid, I couldn’t see you in the crowd.

_ You’re 4 years older than me, Jacob. – Devera scowled. – I am not a kid. 

_ Please don’t start anything today, dear brother of mine. – An exasperated voice, from an exasperated face, joined them.

_ Evie, Jacob’s making fun of me again. – The young mercenary grinned at Jacob as she spoke.

Sheepishly, Jacob turned to face his twin sister:

_ I’m just having a bit of fun with our sister, that’s all. Don’t you know the Mentor say we must all bond with each other?

_ Is that right? – Evie smiled at him, but the smile never reached her eyes. She pulled on his ear sharply. – Well let’s bond too, you and I.

_ Ouch ouch ouch! Sister pleaseee… 

_ Now now, the Mentor is waiting. – Connor tugged on both twins’ shoulders slightly and put himself between them. – And the mentors of many other brotherhoods as well. We should hurry. 

Devera shuddered lightly at his words; she wasn’t shy, and even she began to feel a bit of stage fright at the sheer number of her “brothers and sisters” that gathered that day, knowing they were there for her report. Many important faces were there; some were leaders of their brotherhoods, others respected veterans. She noticed that Rennac was already present; just like her, he was a wandering mercenary and used it as a disguise to do his “real” job. He was assigned to approach Princess Eirika, although judging by his face something was amiss. He was sighing a lot, for one, and he looked as if there was a hammer constantly bashing his head. Normally, she wouldn’t care whatever it was that ailed him, but the job required intel of Princess Eirika’s movement as well. For her own sake, she hoped Rennac didn’t go too far off the tracks. 

A small door on the other side of the meeting hall opened, and every person in the room rose. Connor moved through the crowds to join the three men who had just arrived. Two of them wore similar white robes with slight variations, while the other wore a long black with a single sleeve stitched up. He lost that arm long ago, in a mission, something he didn’t like talking about. As the men, Connor now included, reached the long table where all the most recognizable members were standing at, each person in the room placed a hand on their heart, without a cue, and began chanting:

_ We work in the dark to serve the light. We are assassins.

Devera stood patiently through the greetings and brief catching up that the leaders and veterans from brotherhoods around the world engaged in with the leader of Masyaf, Mentor Altaïr, his right-hand man Advisor Malik, and the two Master Assassins, Ezio and Connor. Together, they were the leadership of Masyaf. It wasn’t as if the leaders of other brotherhoods were strictly under Mentor Altaïr’s command; they simply reported to him and sought his advice out of pure respect for his tenure. 

_ Master Sophie. – Connor approached a woman in dark brown robes. – I appreciate your sending William to the Daeinite Brotherhood. 

Devera caught Arno shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat when he saw the woman; so that was Sophie Trenet, leader of the Etruscan Brotherhood. 

_ No problem at all, Master Connor. – Said the woman. – I hope Master Aveline is pleased with our William’s performance. He comes from a long line of assassins in Etruria, and he’s one of our best. 

_ He has been of great help. 

It was strange that Connor called her “Master”, instead of “Mentor”, but she was not curious enough to ask Arno. After all, Magvel was the only continent whose affairs she was concerned about. To be fair, Magvel was the continent everyone was concerned about; there was a reason why Connor was in Masyaf instead of his home continent Tellius, and a reason why all the big shots were here, for her report. 

_ Devera, mia sorella! – Ezio enthusiastically raised his hands as he called out to her; typical Ezio. – The star of tonight’s show! I simply cannot wait to hear your tales. How was Prince Ephraim? The battle at Fort Renvall?

Devera stiffly walked to the front, suddenly a lot more self-conscious than she usually would be, as all eyes fell upon her.

_ The infiltration was a success. Prince Ephraim and his entourage never suspected why I was near Fort Renvall; they chalked it up to coincidence. The prince approached me with an offer as expected.

_ No doubt thanks to my glowing recommendations of you at the tavern. – Arno interrupted. – I specifically emphasized your lack of congeniality as your special charm. 

_ Which is much appreciated, Veteran. – She sneered at him. – I was attacked by some Templars twice, but no biggie. After my flawless performance at Fort Renvall, and my contribution to our great escape from General Valter, even with a lack of assistance, have landed me a solid position in his little group.

Picking up on her emphasis, Mentor Altaïr sighed as he glanced at the Etrurian assassin:

_ Arno…

_ From my observation they had it under control. – Arno shrugged.

_ Regardless, we are now camped at a secluded spot east of the fort. The knights who followed the prince suffered minor casualties, but are otherwise unscathed. Although, there is a little snatch…

_ Novice. – Malik spoke up for the first time, frowning. – You did follow the plan, didn’t you?

“I am NOT a novice”, she thought to herself, but managed to bite back her objection:

_ Yes, this is completely beyond my control. We found a manakete.

The room fell silent. An ancient, elusive race of dragon folk, the appearance of one outside of their habitat, especially in this time of turmoil, could not be a good thing.

_ That… - Altaïr tapped his finger on the long table. – We definitely didn’t expect that.

_ Her name is Myrrh, and she apparently came from the Darkling Woods. She came out because they, the manakete, felt an ominous energy from the South, and that’s a direct quote.

_ From Grado Empire. – Ezio nodded. – Fascinating indeed. Anything else?

_ Well… - Devera grinned. – She really didn’t like my Falchion. Scurried from it like it was a bug. Said it gave her the creeps, apparently.

_ So the rumor is true, the Falchion is a dragonslayer. But I meant anything related to Grado, Devera.

_ Not really. All she talked about is evil vibes. I’ve read that manaketes are cryptic by nature, and she certainly reinforced that stereotype.

Nodding appreciatively, Altaïr raised his hand to dismiss her:

_ We will need to look into the matter of this manakete’s appearance. Well done, Devera. You can rest now.

She took a little bow, genuinely pleased with herself for a praise from Altaïr himself. Although as she returned to her original seat, she could see Rennac’s expression plunging even deeper.

_ Mentor Altaïr. – A man in black robes spoke up. – With what the manakete said and their attacks on Assassin Devera in Grado, can we confirm that the Templars are involved in Grado’s unusual behaviors?

_ So it seems, Aguilar. – Said the Mentor. – We must operate under the assumption that our enemies have infiltrated the ranks of Grado’s military brass, and perhaps even the Royal Family.

_ Hasn’t Grado been an ally to us? – Sophie asked. – How can the Templars take over so swiftly without us noticing?

_ We’ve been unable to contact our ally in Grado, the Emperor Vigarde. – Said Malik. – It appears that he has fallen ill, but the Crown Prince Lyon is keeping his father’s health very quiet. 

Then he turned to Altaïr:  
_ We should prepare for the worst. Grado can no longer be considered friendly territory.

The Mentor nodded, which seemed to satisfy Aguilar. Aguilar de Nerha, it was her first time seeing him. Apparently he had been an assassin since the Valmese Brotherhood was called the Zofian Brotherhood, a name that died out before she was even born. Now, he was the Brotherhood’s Mentor. The rumors said that he was an intense, scary-looking guy; the rumors were right.

_ Now then, Rennac! – The young mercenary-assassin with chestnut hair now looked as if he had been kicked in the gut, as Ezio turned to look at him. – Fratello mio, how goes your journey?

Scratching his head, Rennac approached the Masyaf’s leadership:

_ Well, I’ve…taken a detour.

_ Meaning? – Malik looked annoyed. He had always hated deviations from the plans.

_ So, the plan was for me to get hired by Princess Eirika, right? Now you see, I was going to Renais when I stumbled upon this comely lass who was also heading there and was looking for a bodyguard.

Malik pinched the bridge of his nose, growing even more irritated:

_ You…did NOT…

_ I had a very good reason, okay? I figured if someone who dressed fancy like her was going to Renais in this time, they must be related to the royal family, aka Princess Eirika. And it turned out that she was L’Arachel, the Princess of Rausten! I thought she’d join forces with Princess Eirika!

_ And you thought she’d pay well. – Malik gritted his teeth.

Rennac laughed nervously:

_ That’d be a great bonus, but I promise it wasn’t my main concern. 

_ And what was the problem, brother? 

_ Well she…didn’t join Princess Eirika. We met her near Grado-Renais border, but she insisted we left for some sort of quest she had going. – His voice began to trail off. – And she paid me fuck all too…

Ezio interrupted:

_ Wait, Princess Eirika is in Grado?

Rennac nodded, while the leadership of Masyaf turned to convene with each other. Now that was interesting intel; while news of Renais’ fall had reached the entire continent, it was previously assumed that Princess Eirika and King Fado were still trapped in the capital city. If Rennac recently encountered the princess near the border, then the king must have had the foresight to send his daughter away before the capital city fell. Then what of him? Devera thought back to when she met Prince Ephraim; he talked of dealing a hit to Grado in order to buy time for his father and sister. It seemed his efforts only yielded half the result he wished for. 

_ You should have started with that information, Rennac. – Malik scowled. Though now that she thought about it, she’d never seen a positive expression on him. 

_ Oh, right, sorry. – The young assassin scratched his head. – She does have quite the entourage with her, some knights from Renais, some from Frelia, and a few armed villagers. They're a ragtag bunch, but they can fight. 

Altaïr nodded:

_ Very well. I’m concerned about King Fado, and I fear the worst. Malik, send a few Initiates to the Renais Castle and confirm the king’s fate, be it good or bad.

_ It will be done.

_ About the infiltration into Princess Eirika's party, we shall fall back to plan B. Ezio...

_ Of course, Mentor. - The Master Assassin smiled. 

Things were looking up for Rennac, just as he expected. While he did fail his initial mission, he brought important news to the table. He was surprised when he saw the princess at the Grado border as well, despite intel from all sides still believing her to be in the Renais capital city. But he knew Malik, the Mentor’s right-hand man, wouldn’t let him up that easily for his little improv, even if it did bring crucial information to the Brotherhood. And he was right on that as well, because he could see the one-arm man still glaring daggers at him.

_ Novice, do not be mistaken. You were saved purely by chance and not your own skill. That is no cause for celebration. – Malik grunted. – Take this occasion to learn that we plan things ahead for a reason. 

_ Of course, sir Malik. – He bowed slightly.

_ Still, you’re travelling with Princess L’Arachel of Rausten, you say. 

_ Yes. – Rennac stiffened. – She also has a bodyguard, Dozla.

_ We have yet to establish a solid contact with the Royal Family of Rausten. – The Mentor said. – This was a miscalculation, but could be a good chance for you, for us, to work on a connection with Princess L’Arachel.

_ You mean… I have to stay with her? – Rennac did not like where this was going.

_ Rejoice, Rennac, your mistake has won us an opportunity! – Ezio said. – It is vital that we make an ally out of Rausten before the Templars. And you, brother, is the key to this mission. Win her trust. Present us well.

The young assassin thought back to Princess L’Arachel, to her enthusiastic, high-pitched voice, to her incessant urging and demands, and to the lack of coins in his purse. His displease with the situation was not well-disguised on his face; he caught a little smirk passing shortly on Malik’s face. They knew, the leadership knew, that he dreaded the Rausten princess’ company. It was true that Rausten was important to the Brotherhood’s future in Magvel, but Rennac was certain this was Malik’s idea of a punishment. Good for the Brotherhood, yet bad for the disobedient Disciple. Malik’s favorite. 

_ I understand. – He swallowed in his sigh. – I will do my best.

The Mentor appeared pleased; they were making slow, but steady progress in the Renais-Grado war, and things were still under control. To be honest, he had expected many more deviations from the plans; neither Devera nor Rennac had the reputation of an orthodox assassin. But it was important to him, and to Masyaf, that the most important assassins in this fight came from the continent of Magvel itself. There would come a day when he, and the rest of the high-ranking members, must return to their homelands, and Magvelian assassins would need to lead it. He needed to prepare them for that future.

_ Mentor, Advisor, Masters! – One of the guards at the gate came rushing in the meeting hall, ignoring all courtesy. – Please come quickly to the gate!

All attendants of the meeting rose urgently and followed the guard, not just the leadership. But they were careful to leave a path for the top assassins in Masyaf, especially the Mentor. They could see a crowd gathering around the gate, and healers rushing back and forth. Never a good sign. It meant that some of their own had been attacked, and they had escaped to Masyaf in desperation. Such occasion was not common, but certainly not rare enough that the leadership must attend every time. The fact that they needed to be informed either indicated the defeat of a whole brotherhood, or someone very important.

_ Eseosa! – Connor yelled out as soon as he came near the gate and rushed ahead.

Before them, sprawled out on the ground, were several winged, robed men and women, all heavily wounded. One of them, a dark man gripping onto his left arm, perked up at the sound of his name and stood up, or at least he tried. He soon crumpled from another wound in his dominant leg, but fortunately caught by Connor before falling painfully into the ground again:

_ I’m sorry, Mentor. I have failed you.

_ Be still, Eseosa. – Connor spoke softly. – Don’t push yourself. What happened?

_ We were betrayed. Agaté, that wretched dog… - Eseosa grunted in pain. – He asked us to gather for an important intel, then led the Templars straight to our stronghold. We were unprepared. 

He paused briefly and coughed out some blood:

_ Many good assassins were lost. Only us…

_ These are the only survivors? - Glancing over the other winged assassins, Connor asked. He could count five, a mere third of what he knew Eseosa’s brotherhood had.

_ I’m afraid so. I managed to send words to Master Aveline, to warn her. My apologies, I should have seen through his lies. You entrusted me with the Kilvas Brotherhood, and yet I… I should have known... 

_ You can never know anything. Only suspect. - Malik said grimly, standing behind Connor. - You should have suspected betrayal; you should have had a plan in place. Especially when yours was but a fledgling brotherhood...

_ My friend, I believe he had taken enough bruises for today. Go easy on him. - The Mentor tapped on his shoulder gently.

Malik did not protest, although he appeared to still have things to say. Devera could remember, as clear as day, her first defeat as an assassin, and the verbal lashings he gave her that day. If her tongue was as sharp as a blade, his could rival the edge of the legendary sword Tyrfing itself. 

_ You’ve fought well, fratello mio. – Ezio patted his shoulder. – Riposare bene. Do not worry, for we will rise again. 

Eseosa didn’t understand half of what the Ostian Master Assassin said, but he got the gist of it. He bowed to the leadership, and did not move when the Novices carried him and his fellow Kilvasians to the infirmary wing, while the healers walked briskly beside, whispering incantations to stop the bleeding. 

_ And then there was one. – Malik said bitterly.

Only one brotherhood left in Tellius. It was a grim reminder that they had not yet prevailed over the Templars, and that their fight persisted all over the continents. 

_ Connor, what will you do? – The Mentor glanced at him. – Will you return to Tellius?

Her mentor seemed to struggle greatly within himself, Devera could see it. The assassins in Tellius seemed to need him now, dearly, when the Templars had woken up from their hibernation, and went on the offensive once again. 

_ No. – Connor said grimly. – I have faith in Aveline and William. They can lead the Daeinite Brotherhood through this. Right now, Magvel calls for me more. 

Indeed, Devera gulped, Magvel was more important now. She could feel it, and she was sure Rennac could feel it too, the weight of faith and responsibility on their shoulder growing ever heavier. No more screw ups. No more chances. They must win in Magvel. And Renais must win this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a "bit" more worldbuilding in this chapter; I'll admit I got a little bit carried away. 
> 
> In this AU, Masyaf is the name of the castle, not the town. It's currently located in an undisclosed location within Magvel. All FE continents will be assumed to exist in the same world in this fic, and I'll do my best to merge the storylines of the respective FE games in a way that makes sense. 
> 
> If you made it through all that, thank you very much! I promise to go easy on the worldbuilding next chap.


End file.
